


Life's a Beach

by heliantheae



Series: Blue [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Day At The Beach, Humor, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Socialism, Speedos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 18:42:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15516162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heliantheae/pseuds/heliantheae
Summary: She turns to the camera as Bucky approaches and says, “There you have it, folks. Straight from the man with a plan himself. Stay tuned for more as we continue to cover the Avengers Initiative’s first annual beach clean-up!”“What did you tell her?” Bucky asks, with no small amount of trepidation, because with Steve it’s kind of hit-or-miss between a harmless PR speech and a political rant.Steve gives him the most wide-eyed, innocent look he can manage. “I just think socialism is neat, Buck.”Can be read as a stand-alone.





	Life's a Beach

“Hey, man, wake up,” someone says distantly.

Bucky does more than wake up. He launches himself out of bed at whoever is talking to him, and in under three seconds he’s holding a knife to the throat of a very surprised Sam Wilson. “Shit, man,” says Sam. “I thought you heard me coming.”

Very carefully, Bucky releases him. Then he extracts the ear plugs from his ears. “I wake up at every little noise, otherwise,” he explains when Sam raises his eyebrows. “So no, I didn’t hear you coming.”

“My bad, dude,” Sam says, wiping away the drop of blood that had welled up at his throat. “I was looking for Steve.”

Bucky hands him a tissue feeling more like he should feel bad than actually feeling bad, then looks at Steve’s side of the bed. It’s empty. “What day is it?” Bucky asks.

Sam is instantly on edge, much to Bucky’s irritation. You threaten a man with a knife and suddenly he’s worried you’re brainwashed again. Ridiculous. “Do you know who you are?” Sam asks cautiously. “Can you tell me what year it is?”

“I’m the guy that’s going to use a calendar to murder the next person to ask him that,” Bucky says, and ignores Sam to consult his phone.

It is, as he had suspected, Saturday. This meant that Steve was at Brighton Beach doing Steve things, such as encouraging a civilian uprising against the government and picking up litter. He says as much to Sam, who blinks and says, “Oh, Jesus Christ. The beach clean-up is today? I was supposed to help with that.”

“I really don’t see how that’s my problem,” Bucky tells him, and moves to put his ear plugs back in.

Sam grabs his arm and ignores his unimpressed look. “Oh, no. You’re not getting out of this that easily.”

“Steve said that I didn’t have to come if I didn’t want to be in the public eye,” Bucky informs him. “Publicity stunts have always been more his gig anyway.”

“You mooned a Fox News reporter last week,” Sam says. “I think you’re fine with being seen in public and you just don’t want to get sunburnt while picking up slimy plastic.” 

“Wow,” says Bucky. “You know, just last week you were lecturing me about being to cynical?”

“Get dressed, man. You can wear that swimsuit Natasha bought you and scandalize all the conservatives,” Sam tells him.

“Oh, is that what that is?” Bucky asks sarcastically. “I figured it was a new-fangled handkerchief based on its surface area.”

The swimsuit in question is a speedo patterned like the American flag. Bucky will never admit, even under duress, that it fills him with the sort of horrified glee he usually reserves for reality television.

\----------

An hour later, Sam has developed an eye twitch he’s valiantly trying to hide and they’re pulling up to the beach. Bucky keeps one hand on the wheel and reaches out with the other to attempt to press a finger to the twitch. He ends up poking Sam’s cheek. He turns it into a pat. “Shh,” he says. “It’s okay.”

Sam stares at him. “I’m never riding in the car with you again.”

Bucky shrugs, unconcerned. “I like to go fast,” he says. 

“What was the point of spending half an hour on your hair if you were just going to go twenty over the speed limit with the windows down?” Sam wants to know. 

Bucky tilts his head side to side so Sam can see his cheekbones and admire the artful windswept bun he’d worked so hard on from all of the best angles. “You wish you looked this good.”

“Ugh,” says Sam, and finally unclenches his fist from the panic bar to get out of the car.

\----------

Locating Steve turns out to be easy, because he’s also wearing a patriotic speedo and is in the process of excavating the remains of an entire car.

“One of us is going to have to change,” Bucky informs him.

Steve turns around at the sound of his voice and gives him what might be the brightest smile in the history of the human race. “You came!” he says.

“Sam made me,” Bucky says, which does nothing to stop Steve from hugging him and getting super soldier sweat and normal people sunscreen all over him. 

Steve limits himself to clasping Sam on the shoulder. “I’m glad you made it,” he says. “Thank you for bringing Bucky.”

“Bucky brought me,” Sam corrects. “I think I have gray hair now. Does he always drive so fast?”

Steve blinks at him, momentarily stupefied, then gives Bucky a judgemental look involving a lot of eyebrow. “You don’t have a driver’s license,” he says reproachfully.

“Neither do you,” Bucky says defensively.

At the same time, Sam goes, “What the fuck do you mean you don’t have a driver’s license?”

“Would you look at that,” Steve says. “I have to dig up this car and save the environment and tragically miss this argument. I really do sacrifice everything for my country.”

“You’re an asshole,” Sam and Bucky say in unison, and then glare at each other.

—————

They go to the volunteer sign-in stand, where they’re greeted by a cheerful Natasha. “Hey, fellas,” she says. “Please sign in and write down your email address or phone number if you’re interested in hearing about future volunteer activities with the environmental branch of the Avengers Initiative. Remember, you don’t have to be a superhero to do super heroic things.”

Bucky is fairly certain that she has finally ascended above the rest of humanity and gotten to the point she can imply smiley face emojis with just her voice. “Why do you get to sit under a tent?” he asks grumpily.

“I’m very pale,” she informs him. “And I don’t magically heal from things in two minutes like some people I could name. Also, please help yourself to a biodegradable paper cup and the provided water if you get thirsty. Stay cool while being cool and helping our planet!”

“Did you come up with that yourself?” Sam wants to know.

She ignores him in favor of offering Bucky a sticker that proclaims him to be an Avenger. It has Steve’s shield on it. “If you’re going to act like a sulky child,” she says. 

Bucky sticks it to his metal arm, flips her off, and marches over to grab a bag and one of those garbage grabby things. He can hear Sam in the background trying to talk Natasha out of a Hawkeye sticker.

—————

Unsurprisingly, Steve has managed to find trouble in the six seconds he’s been left alone. For better or for worse, this time the trouble is in the form of a perky brunette and her cameraman instead of a terrorist organization.

She turns to the camera as Bucky approaches and says, “There you have it, folks. Straight from the man with a plan himself. Stay tuned for more as we continue to cover the Avengers Initiative’s first annual beach clean-up!”

“What did you tell her?” Bucky asks, with no small amount of trepidation, because with Steve it’s kind of hit-or-miss between a harmless PR speech and a political rant.

Steve gives him the most wide-eyed, innocent look he can manage. “I just think socialism is neat, Buck.”

Well, at least the picture of Bucky mooning that reporter would be out of the news when the media started trying to digest Captain America the Socialist.

“Me too, pal,” Bucky replies, and leans in when Steve wraps an arm around him. “Did you tell her you supported a carbon tax for corporations?”

“Of course,” Steve says smugly. “And I got in a bit about tax loopholes too.”

Bucky hadn’t really wanted to come, being of the mindset that donating money to causes he believed in mostly absolved him of also giving them physical labor, but looking at Steve and the waves and the swarms of people laughing and doing something they believed in made him feel lighter inside. Yet another thing to add to the list of things he would never admit.

He pinches Steve with the garbage grabber thing and skips out of range to look for trash further down the beach before Steve can retaliate. 

Today would be completely worth an hour or so of aggressively peeling sunburn later.


End file.
